


They Taste Like Hope

by ifiOnlyhadmorePaper



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Death, F/F, F/M, Fluff, some more angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifiOnlyhadmorePaper/pseuds/ifiOnlyhadmorePaper
Summary: The same souls, they just never finish what they started.
Relationships: Aubrey Posen/Chicago Walp, Benji Applebaum/Jesse Swanson, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Stacie Conrad/Donald, gail abernathy-mckadden/john smith
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	They Taste Like Hope

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a minute, but here y'all go.

* * *

_"I don't know how you are so familiar to me - or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before - in another time, a different place, some other existence."_

John remembers the first day he saw her. Her blonde hair was pinned up and tucked neatly under a lavender toque, and her white, flower-print dress sat rather beautifully against her cream skin. An umbrella perched upon her shoulder, and the sun caressed her face, her blue, iridescent eyes sparkling like the sea in Barcelona. Only a simp would look away, and John Smith was no simp. Quite frankly, it would be an understatement to say that he was taken with her - there was no other way to tell how gravity pulled him to her. The idea of gravity was no duck soup, but John, John got the jist of it. 

Gail, the girl's name was. Gail Abernathy, her father owned the Brooklyn Gazette just up the road from the tavern John worked at, and the old man would come in time to time and order a whiskey, neat. A solid man, one for a laugh and solid advice, not that John had ever asked. 

See, it had all begun with a book; The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf, lying on the dusty path leading up to a large oak that perfectly shaded a bench on the hill. "Excuse me, miss?" He cleared his throat and garnered her attention. "I think this might be yours." A small smile quirked at the corners of his lips and he held the book out in front of her. Gail pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, as she began to speak. 

"How do you figure?" She asked, with an impassive voice, but John could feel that the young woman was not as aloof as she appeared to be. 

"Well, see I was walking about, but there's nobody else around," John gestured his free hand outward and looked behind him. "The last person I saw near this cool bench was you, miss." He raised his eyebrows and the back of his neck began to sweat under her scrutiny. 

"Hm." She looked him up and down, and John's eyebrows drew closer together for a moment. 

"Have I said something wrong?" He asked nervously. She slid to one edge of the bench, wordlessly inviting him to sit down. 

"No, just not all men fancy a lady who likes to read." She accepted the book from his hand and angled her nose upward, signifying her disdain toward the matter. 

"That would make me a real bonehead, not to fancy you." Her eyes widened, and John grinned. Gail laughed and blushed, and John laughed as well. 

He courted her for three months before she said yes. Outings to the cinema were very popular and Gail _loved_ it. Of course, there was dinner and walks through the park, all the way to the hill where Gail would read aloud. John knew that the bond he shared with his love was something gifted from God Himself. They were married in the spring of 1919 and Gail bore one son, Bruno.

“John, dear, please run a bath - I’m feeling quite faint.” Gail sighed as she changed Bruno’s trousers. Feeding a small boy was no simple chore, it took patience, and John marveled at how impeccable Gail’s patience was. She loved John, she loved her Bruno, Gail _loved_ and John loved that too. She was beautiful.

“Of course, darling.” as John passed, he pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead, and on Bruno’s too. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she smiled wearily, and John couldn’t shake his head - she was the love of his life, and there was no better match for him, he was sure of it. Gail was it and John knew that from the bottom of his heart.

Now, John sat beside the bed he shared with his Gail as she lay weak and frail, tucked underneath the blankets. He clung to her hand like a needy child, and whispered sweet nothings to her. The Influenza, the doctors said. They didn't say much more, but John knew there wasn't much time left. 

"John..." Gail called out to him. John leaned forward and listened. 

"Yes, dear?" His voice wavered. 

"I..." she smacked her dry and cracked lips. "Dropped... the book..." she breathed heavily after every few words. "On... purpose." He smiled a very sad smile, and clutched her hand firmly, feeling her try to squeeze back just as hard. 

"Why on Earth would you do that?" Gail turned her face to look him in the eye. 

"I... don't know... I saw..." She swallowed hard and John kissed her knuckles. "I just... knew I needed... meet you." She gasped. 

"I love you." John sniffled and pressed her open palm against his cheek. 

"More today... than yesterday?" Gail sighed the question. He kissed her palm and swallowed a sob. 

"But not as much as tomorrow." Her mouth drew up ever so slightly with one final, heavy breath.

//// 

The depth of the ocean had always perplexed Aubrey. She knew that there had to be more, not just the shallow water reflecting her blonde curls and blue-green eyes. She figured that was life when she was twenty-one years old, and still no one could tell her what happened _after_ one gets married and has a family. She stood at a pier and she wondered: _What am I here for?_ Her thoughts were disrupted when a gentleman cleared his throat from beside her. 

"Beautiful isn't it?" Aubrey looked at the man, and her breath immediately caught in her throat at the sight of him. Clean cut and shaved brown hair, with piercing blue eyes that crinkled in the corners as he smiled, clad in a Navy uniform. He was something carved from Apollo. 

"The water?" Aubrey asked and looked back out. "I suppose." 

"No, no," she glanced at him with an arched eyebrow. "That." He pointed in her direction, she turned around to look down the beach at a family of four. 

"It's a lovely family." She smiled. Still he shook his head and there was a glint of something Aubrey's seen before, but she couldn't place what exactly. "No?" 

"Yes, that family is beautiful, but I had something else in mind." He grinned at her and she used every ounce of self control she had not to swoon. 

"You use that line on all your girls?" She glared at him and when he laughed, her resolve broke just a little bit. 

"You're gorgeous, but I was talking about life." He stepped closer and leaned against the rail. "Life is beautiful, don't you think?" 

"Well," she shrugged and looked out with him. "I wouldn't know, I haven't experienced a whole lot of it." The two stood in silence for a moment. 

"Experience some of it with me tonight, at Lucky's." She laughed and looked at him. 

"You don't even know me." He stuck his hand out and stood tall. 

"My name is Matthew, but my friends call me Chicago." She stared suspiciously at his hand and took it, feeling the electricity run through her. 

"Aubrey," she bit her lip. "My name is Aubrey." 

"Well, Aubrey, I will be at Lucky's at eight tonight." He winked and walked away. Later that night, Aubrey met Chicago at Lucky's and they danced the night away. Everyday for the rest of that week was spent together. Taking aimless walks around the city and holding hands or linking their pinkies together, running off the steps of the porch as her father watched proudly and her mother pursed her lips, eyeing them warily. She found herself telling him every hope and dream she'd ever had - even the fears she would never dare tell anyone - she would pass them off like delicate, glass figurines and he would hold them closely and tenderly, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb as he encouraged her reach for the stars. 

"I don't know how to explain it," Aubrey said one night. She rolled her lips and squinted at Chicago. "I feel like I've always known you." He bent his head to kiss her and pressed his forehead against hers, as they swayed back and forth to the soft music that played. It felt as if she finally knew what she was there for. She was there for him. 

"I think I'm in love with you." She opened her eyes wide and smiled, almost maniacally. 

"I'm in love with you too." 

Two weeks later, they laid on a blanket in the sun. It was a lovely day, and there was a perfect blush on Chicago’s face that made Aubrey reach out and touch.

“Marry me?” she said softly. His eyes grew wide and his face looked nothing short of what a mime’s face looked like - like the one’s her mother had seen in Paris.

“What?” he asked with a breathy chuckle, and a sparkle in his eyes that confirmed he needed to hear it again.

“Marry me, Chicago? We can get married by the church and start our life, just imagine!” She sat up and looked down into his teary, blue eyes. “Two children, a little boy and a beautiful blonde girl! We’ll teach them to swim at the beach and sing! Oh, they’ll have lovely voices! Just imagine that, will you? With me?” Chicago nodded and kissed her.

“Let’s get married then!” he rolled them over and kissed her, as she happily laughed against his mouth. Life was beautiful.

Early the next day, Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese, as Aubrey began her walk to the church - where they'd agreed to elope - completely unaware that Chicago would never show.

//// 

Benjamin's husband loved movies. Watching _Star Wars_ with him was probably one of his most cherished memories, but now as he sat alone on their bed it stung the hole in his chest. It ached all the way through every memory, stopping at one particularly; Summer camp. 

The air was thick with the smell of sunscreen and pine needles. The last place Benjamin wanted to be was outside, at a summer camp away from home. He was a counselor. He did suppose there were worse predicaments to be in, but he figured it couldn't be that bad. Then, as he neared his cabin, he heard _Carry on My Wayward Son_ by _Kansas_ , and a smooth male voice belting out the words. Benjamin peered in through the screen door and saw a young brunette man bobbing his head along to the radio. He chuckled to himself and knocked, to not scare him. 

"Hi, it looks like I'm your cabin buddy." He stuck his hand out and was startled when his roommate pulled his hand and shook enthusiastically. 

"Hey, man, I'm Jesse Swanson." 

"Benjamin Applebaum." Jesse beamed at him, with charming eyes. 

"Can I call you Benji?" He asked. 

"Sure, if I can call you Jess?" 

"Alright." Jesse smirked. Benji could feel the blush rushing to his cheeks. The next few weeks, Benji and Jesse spent alternating between sitting on Benji's bed or Jesse's bed and listening to the radio. Occasionally, the two would go to the lake when they weren't needed at their stations, but Benji liked to stay in the cabin. It was selfish, but he wanted Jesse to himself. He would never forget the night he kissed him at the bonfire. All the other counselors had left and it was just Benji and Jesse, with a guitar and a cluster of stars above them. Benji wouldn't forget how Jesse brushed their lips together, experimentally, and laid one on him. It felt like a flower that had always been there finally bloomed in the warmth that Jesse offered. The last three weeks of camp were brilliant. Every night was spent in Jesse's bed, their first time was a supernova and Benji could still feel the stardust in his lungs. He laid his head on Jesse's chest and mindlessly toyed with the hem of his shirt. "Jess?" 

"Yes?" He answered, in a muffled voice. 

"Will you forget me? After we leave?" The question seemed to have startled Jesse, he jerked his head up and looked at him with an incredulous face. 

"I will _never_ forget you," Jesse cupped his cheek, adoringly. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

The last day of camp a bus was scheduled to take Benji and other kids and counselors home. Jesse held his hand all the way to the bus, despite the stares and slurs, but when the pair got to the line to get in, Jesse blurted out: "Come with me." 

"What?" 

"Benji, come away with me." He searched his eyes for any trace of uncertainty. "I know I've only known you for six weeks, but it feels like so much more than that." He pleaded. "Come with me." Benji kissed him hard and nodded. 

"Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes!" 

For the following years, they were "roommates" who shared kisses and slept in the same bed. After four years, Benji cried on their bed and thought of the last conversation they had. "Life is beautiful." Jesse mused out loud as they walked. A chill ran through him and a strange sense of deja vu struck him. 

"It is..." he agreed. He squeezed his hand firmly and smiled at him. "So are you." 

He didn't remember much else after that - everything happened so fast - just the knowledge in his heart that he has loved him before this. Before the ugly hate took his Jesse away.

//// 

Dancing was Stacie's life, everyday she would practice and practice, all she wanted was to be the best, but dancing was not her _purpose_. That was still undiscovered, until she met Donald, that is. Smart, charismatic, and not to mention good looking, he was everything. 

"Hey! Hey, girl! Wait!" Stacie stopped in the middle of the subway station and looked at him. "You dropped your shoes." 

"Oh! Thank you! You're a lifesaver!" She took them from his hands and his grin told her they wouldn't stay strangers. As a matter of fact, she _knew_ that smile from somewhere. 

"No problem," he nodded, giving her a breathy chuckle. "So, where are you headed to, legs?" Stacie laughed and began to walk and he followed. 

"Just to get coffee, you?" 

"Me too." She hummed and eyed him, surely he wasn't getting coffee but Stacie wouldn't complain. Donald lived on the far side of the city, and after dance, Stacie would meet him for coffee and when she was sure her parents were asleep, she would sneak him through her window and they would listen to music and kiss, leaving light - sometimes heavy - touches and soaking each other up until the only way to get any closer would be to pull the other into their very skin. 

Inhale, exhale, _inhale_ , _exhale_ , Stacie repeated the mantra in her head as she stretched her arms over her head. Her hair was neatly up in a bun, away from her face, and her shoulders were rolled back as she began her footwork. "What are you thinking about?" he asked her as she stared out the window, feeling his fingers trail up and down her arms. 

"What I'm gonna do," He circled his arms around her waist and kissed the dip of her shoulder. 

"You're obviously going to Juilliard." He pointed out. Stacie turned in his arms and stared at him long and hard. 

"I can't." Donald was going to Berkeley to study graphic design, the thought of being apart for so long made Stacie sick. 

"Can't or _won't_?" He asked. 

"Fine, then I won't." She said stubbornly. 

"Stace, you have to go. It's your dream." 

"But..." her chin wobbled and tears trickled down her cheeks. "What if you're my dream?" 

"You know that's not true, baby," She saw his eyes glisten in the pale light of the moon, as it shadowed the sadness on his face. "This is your dream, I can't hold you back." 

"What if..." she sniffled. "What if you forget me?" She asked, feeling a strange ghost of a memory graze her heart. 

"Never." He kissed her forehead and held her close. 

It was raining on the drive to Juilliard, Donald clutched the wheel hard, nervously tapping his finger. Stacie read a magazine in the passenger's seat, and she glanced up for just a moment, and a dog was crossing the road. "Baby, watch out!" 

//// 

Beca couldn't explain it. She'd met Chloe Beale in a whirlwind of excitement, so many things were happening around her and then she saw her - through the crowd of a busy gig. The night was already exhausting and the set hadn't even begun, Beca was starting to sweat, seeing how many people walked in - and yes, it was a club so it was bound to be busy, but that didn't mean the other patrons there for drinks wouldn't listen. _Maybe this isn't for me,_ Beca gulped at the thought. 

Then, piercing blue eyes caught hers in the crowd. Beca gasped and became mesmerized by how the ocean seemed to be trapped in her iris, like a bottle with a ship in it, there was something there that said; "Hello, again." And a chill ran down her spine. _She's the one._

Beca started her set, feeling the woman's stare on her the entire time, and when she would glance up from the board Beca saw the way she suggestively rolled and swayed her hips, her smoldering stare pushed Beca to play with a new zest for playing for an audience. 

Sweat trickled down her neck and pooled in her collarbone, she stood at the far end of the bar with a cold water bottle pressed to the side of her face. "Your set was amazing." She peered over her shoulder to see the redhead from the crowd. 

"Thanks, dude." Beca turned to face her, opening up her usually closed off stance. 

"I've never heard _anyone_ play music like that before." The girl stepped forward, occupying the space beside Beca. 

"I've never seen anyone dance that way before." Beca smirked, pleased with how smooth the words came out. 

"So, you were watching me?" Her blue eyes glittered playfully, and somehow she managed to step closer without Beca noticing. 

"How could I not?" She let her eyes fall to her pink lips and back up to her eyes. 

"You wanna get out of here?" Beca unconsciously licked her lips. 

"Definitely."

The night was full of writhing and bliss, neither women would forget, the only things that weren't mentioned were names - Beca was so embarrassed, she would never be caught dead in a stranger's bed. But when she looked at her - her hair like fire on the white pillow case and sun kissed shoulders bare against her comforter exposing her multitude of freckles - she realized that she wanted nothing more than to _stay_. So, she did, and she trailed feather light kisses up and down her neck until a hum vibrated against Beca's lips. 

"Good morning," she yawned. 

"Morning," she pulled her in a little tighter and nuzzled her nose against her neck before pressing a firm kiss. 

"Mm, that's nice." The blue eyed woman turned in her arms to stare at her, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "Hi," 

"Hi," Beca whispered back. Then out of the fragile quiet, a rumbling echoed through her room. The girl blushed and Beca grinned and arched an eyebrow at her. "Hungry?" 

"Yes..." her hands flew to her face to hide her embarrassment. Beca learned after a "quick" shower that mystery girl's name was Chloe Beale, she was twenty-three and going to vet school. She rolled her name around on her tongue like an Altoid and tried to place a time that she knew somebody with the same name, but each time she came up with nothing. Her laugh was wind chimes and her eyes were crystal lakes that reflected the fondest of memories that hadn't happened yet. 

Two years later Chloe proposed. 

"I look at you and I know that I've known you before - laughed with you on the shore of a different beach and tasted your lips under a different sky," Beca smiled, as a tear ran down her cheek. "That I've walked through the door and called your name before I knew that you would find me, that I'd see you and know that you were the one, I loved you before then. Be my forever and I will be yours." 

"The rings, please," the minister asked. "Beca, do you promise to be true, be strong when she is weak, and fight for her - and alongside her - for as long as you both shall live?" 

"I do." Beca beamed, she felt her heart soaring in her chest - there was no trepidation for the first time in her life. 

"Chloe, do you promise to be true, be strong when she is weak, and fight for her - and alongside her - for as long as you both shall live?" 

"I do." Chloe sniffled, as she nodded frantically. 

"Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wives! You may kiss your wife." 

////

Chloe knew Beca was magic, the second their eyes met - she had thunderstorms in her eyes, that navy blue was beguiling on so many levels and it was wonderful. The way her hands moved across her equipment was witchcraft, and Chloe honestly couldn’t deny that the night they’d spent together was not all the proof she needed because the way she manipulated her body gave Chloe the fantastic idea that Beca has known her before. Because no one just _knows_ , but Beca does. Chloe can’t help but think that this isn’t even a beginning, but it’s _continued._

“So, what’s your name?” Chloe asked.

“Beca,” she glanced up with a playful smirk, taking a long pull of the water beside her coffee mug.

“Beca, what?” Chloe rolled her eyes, as she cut her waffles into triangles. Chloe watched Beca’s hands wrap around her coffee mug. She had a thumb ring, a ring on her index finger, and two tattoos - one on her ring finger and one on her pinky. On her ring finger, she had a ten in roman numerals, and on her pinky - a cross.

“Beca Mitchell, nice to officially, _officially_ meet you, Chloe Beale.” and that grin! Oh, the grin, Chloe loved a good grin, but Beca’s was the best. And the way her name sounded spilling out of her mouth, like an old friend - like she could’ve said Chloe’s name a thousand times before they’d actually met.

“What’s the ten for?” the look in Beca’s eyes made her skeleton vibrate.

“Why don’t you wait and see?”

* * *

A wedding and two daughters later, they laid in bed - on vacation in Oregon, visiting with her mother for the holidays.

“Bec?”

“Yes, baby?” she rolled over to face Chloe’s piercing blue eyes.

“What does the ten stand for?” Chloe grabbed her hand and pressed her lips against the smooth skin of Beca’s knuckles. Beca lightly squeezed her hand back and kissed her forehead.

“Why don’t you wait and see?”

“What? No fai-” just as Chloe was about to protest, their daughter’s ran in - Francis (or Franny) in her small nightgown, with _Anna and Elsa_ on the front of the baby blue fabric. Her smile accompanied by dimples on both sides, and the bluest eyes. Her brown curls framed her face and there had never been a more adorable five year old, Beca’s little t-rex. And Parker Rose - surprisingly a blonde, unlike her mothers - their three year old, she had no dimples, but instead the pudgiest and blushiest cheeks, and the tiniest bit of a cleft chin. Her blonde waves fell past her shoulders, and she was Beca’s little princess. 

“Mommy! Momma! Grandma’s makin’ pancakes!”

“Pancakes, you say?” Beca said in the silly British accent the girls love. “I can’t possibly refuse, then, can I?” Chloe watched Beca rush off the bed and sweep both small girls into her arms, like some sort of superhero. _Her_ superhero.

“Come on, momma!” Parker beckonned Chloe, with a small, chubby hand.

“I’m coming, pretty girl.” Chloe would wait forever for that answer, but she had better things to do.

* * *

Five years later Beca was diagnosed with lupus.

“Baby, can I have some water?” Beca weakly gestured for the cup at her bedside. Chloe nodded, trying to fight off the tears.

“Here, love.”

“You know, I never told you about the ten.” Beca sighed, after a sip. Chloe held her hand, and she watched her face, noticing all the discomfort and exhaustion present in her lover’s eyes. “One; I want to be brave,” she gulped. “Two; I want to love as much as possible, three; I want to do something amazing, four-” Chloe sniffled and Beca lightly squeezed her hand. “I want to find my equal, five; I want to be better than my old man, six; I want to make a difference in someone’s life, seven; I want to travel, eight; I want to feel peace, nine; I want to see myself the way others see me, and ten;” Chloe waited, with bated breath. “I want to be happy.”

“Oh, baby.” Chloe sobbed and she kissed Beca’s hand with all the emotions she could garner in her lips. “I love you so much, I can’t exist without you.”

“You exist with me, without me, you…” Beca swallowed and silently asked for more water. “You are something, in existence on your own. I love you so much. Thank you for finishing my list.” Chloe sobbed into the night, until at three a.m. nurses and doctors bustled through the room to wheel her bed away.

* * *

Two years later, Chloe sat on the bleachers at Franny’s middle school. Her eighth grade graduation came so fast, Chloe was so proud. Meanwhile, Parker fussed with her dress.

“Ma, this dress is so itchy!”

“I’m sorry, honey, but at least you look nice.” Chloe hugged her close with one arm and kissed her forehead.

“You look beautiful, Parker, baby.” Beca scooted through the narrow aisles, with two water bottles jutting out of her purse. Chloe watched her as she kissed Parker Rose’s forehead, and passed her to sit at her left. Beca promptly sat and looked at Chloe. “Hello,” she kissed her forehead and offered her a cool water bottle.

“Hello, you.” Chloe kissed her, as if for the first time. “I love you,” she rested her head against Beca’s forehead.

“I love you too.” 

It would not be the first time either of them say it, but it will never be the last either.

* * *


End file.
